The Wish to Forget
by violaqueen93
Summary: Clint and Natasha would do anything to forget about each other. But it's never that simple.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Two-shot, based on the song Whiskey Lullaby**

* * *

Pepper never found out exactly what happened. All she knew was that one morning, Natasha simply disappeared from SHIELD's campus. Even Agent Barton had no idea where she went, and any questions they asked went unanswered. All they could get was that she had simply picked up and left in the night, leaving no note or clues that could indicate her whereabouts. There was a massive search, SHIELD pouring millions into the hunt for one of their most successful agents, but months passed and nothing turned to nothing. Agent Romanoff was declared Missing in Action, her file closed.

Clint was never the same. Even though there was nothing anyone could have done, Pepper saw how the uncertainty of Natasha's disappearance gnawed on him, slowly destroying him from the inside out. He still went on missions for SHIELD, albeit with new partners, but there was a sort of hollowness about him. An inability to connect emotionally to anyone anymore, a sort of void where there had previously been quiet wit. Pepper had never known him to be partial to drinking, but bottles upon bottles slowly began cluttering his living quarters, the faint scent of liquor clinging to him wherever he went. She always knew that Clint and Natasha shared a special bond, but she found herself with the suspicion that it had maybe been more. He had been so protective of Natasha from the moment he escorted her back to SHIELD's campus even though she was his equal in survival skills and just as deadly. More than once Clint had been rushed to SHIELD's medical facilities for taking a bullet or a knife after shielding Natasha's body with his own. Now she was gone, disappeared, like a breath in the wind.

The others noticed after a while, the hushed whispers, the concerned glances whenever he was in the room. They tried to help him, to break the depression that held him fast in its grip, but nothing seemed to work. Thor was off in another world and could therefore be no help. Pepper didn't think he would understand the concept of mental illness very well anyway. More like he'd simply roar for Clint to be happy again. Bruce and Tony tried to distract him with new equipment. Steve was always after him to drown his sorrows in another workout, another sparring match. Pepper tried to get him to open up to her, but nothing worked. He was ordered to undergo a mental psychiatric evaluation by Director Fury, but the results came back negative for any disorders. No one believed it. They all knew Clint was smart enough to manipulate his answers to the questions the psychologists threw at him, to hide the true results.

Clint moved like a robot, the same pattern repeating over and over. Go on a mission, return. Drink himself into unconsciousness. Exercise himself sober when he woke up, until he lay puking and gasping on the floor in the gym. Repeat. A frustration unlike any other gripped Pepper as she was forced to watch Clint slowly waste away, unable to do anything to help him.

There came the day when he stopped answering his radio. Repeated pages to his quarters elicited no response, and sighing, Pepper went to check on him. Most likely he had passed out drunk, and she would be fine to leave him to sleep off his latest drinking binge if it weren't for the fact that Agent Fury had just sent in a classified mission briefing that required Clint's specialized skills. If she didn't force him to read it, who knows if he would ever even open it.

She tapped lightly at his door, speaking softly. "Clint? Clint Agent Fury just sent over this file-"

"Not taking any more jobs." Clint's swift response startled Pepper, who leaned back. There was an ominous clicking sound. "Better cover your ears Pepper."

A thrill of dread swept through her, and she frantically shook the knob, pounding on the door, shouting. "Clint! Clint what are you doing what are you-"

An booming crack ripped through the air, and it seemed to Pepper as if something had physically struck her. She froze, her mind racing. Was that what she thought it was? Her mouth opened in a terrified cry "Tony! Help!"

They were there within seconds, Tony, Steve, and Bruce. Pepper could barely get the words out. "I…he…gunshot."

Tony whipped out a small computer in his pocket. "I can access the locking from-"

There was a loud crash as Steve rammed down the door with a powerful blow from his shoulders. Tony shrugged at Bruce and Pepper, and then the three followed Steve into the room. When they saw what the room contained, all four grew still. "My God," Bruce whispered

Clint lay face down on his cot, blood trickling slowly from a neat hole in his temple, the pistol dangling loosely from his fingers. In his other hand was clenched a scrap of paper, a small photograph resting on the ground where it had fluttered from his grasp. Pepper reached down and plucked the photo off the ground, her throat tightening at the photo's subject. While Tony and Bruce gingerly rolled him over, Steve gently broke Clint's grip on the paper and read it, a hundred pound weight settling on his features before he handed it to Pepper.

It was a sheet of paper ripped from a notebook, the edges ragged and frayed. Pepper recognized Clint's untidy scrawl, the letters shakier than usual, and felt her eyes fill as she read the note, holding Natasha's photo in her hand.

_I'll love her until I die. _

"Oh Clint," Pepper whispered, Tony coming up behind her and putting his arms around her in a comforting cradle. Steve and Bruce came and joined them at the foot of the bed, the four of them just stood there for what seemed like an eternity, staring down at the broken body of their friend.

* * *

_Four Months Later_

Natasha stepped out of the taxi, breathing in the mildly foul city air. Anticipation at seeing Tony, Bruce, Nick, Steve, and especially Clint filled her as she gazed up at the monolith that was Stark Tower. She allowed herself a small smile.

It was good to be home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Own nothing!**

**Okay, for everyone who's been yammering at me, here's the second part. I'll probably do a rewrite sometime later, I'm still not satisfied with it but I just wanted to put it up for everyone who's been asking. Based on the song Whiskey Lullaby.**

* * *

"Who are you?"

Something large and solid flew into her, knocking her back several yards and a woman screamed. Before she could get her bearings straight, Steve's hand was at her throat. She could have easily thrown him off if not for he whining of a Stark gun next to her ear. She froze.

Steve grabbed her by her collar, hauling her up while Tony kept the gun trained on her. Instinct made her remain still instead of twisting out of his grip, sensing that something was terribly, dreadfully wrong. Steve's voice was rough, stressed, his eyes wild with some intense emotion. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing here? What do you want from us?"

"Steve, Steve, its me, Natasha!" She didn't understand, they looked like they had seen a ghost. And the anger. Tony and Steve stared at her with such hostility she felt a stirring of anxiety in her gut. "Guys…"

Steve only shook her. "Natasha's dead. Don't you lie to us. Tell us what you know!" The last word was finished with a shout. Natasha glanced desperately at Tony, but only found cold loathing in his eyes. "Tell us!" Steve roared, shaking her again.

"I swear to you I am Natasha. I had to go to Russia to clean up some loose ends…please, didn't Clint say anything to you?"

"Hold out your hand then." Natasha turned her head a fraction of an inch to see Bruce, his face pale but determined, holding out a small electronic pad. He must have seen the confusion in her eyes because he elaborated. "This will take a sample of your tissue. If you are Natasha, this'll tell us."

"Do it." Steve ordered harshly. Natasha shakily extended a hand over the pad, feeling a sharp stabbing in her palm as the machine sampled the skin and blood in her hand. After a few moments, the pad pulsed green.

Bruce took off his glasses, wiping his face. "Good God…Natasha?"

Steve dropped her on the ground, backing away as the others did the same. Natasha eyed them warily. "Yes?"

Strangely enough, it was Pepper who spoke first, her eyes unusually sharp. "You've been gone for three years without so much as a phone call. Do you have any idea how it's been for all of us, how awful its been?"

"I left Clint a note, where is he he can tell you…"

An uneasy silence settled over the group, and Natasha felt an uncomfortable twisting sensation in her stomach. The others glanced at each other, exchanging silent messages and Natasha could take it no longer. Her voice was tight. "Well?"

Steve stared at the floor, while Tony suddenly found a display on one of his tablets incredibly interesting. Pepper stared at her with a look that could only be described as accusing. Finally Bruce spoke, bracing his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. "Clint is dead Natasha," he said finally, gazing at her evenly. "He died four months ago. He never got any note."

"No! I left …No!" Natasha gasped. It was all too terrifyingly clear now. She remembered writing the note, sticking it into her pocket to leave in Clint's weapons locker. She'd thought she had swung by there before she left. No she didn't. She remembered now, evading security cameras in Stark Tower had taken longer than expected and she had been running behind. Instead of stopping by the weapons cache with the note, she'd simply disappeared into the streets of Manhattan. "No…" she whispered, the knish she'd eaten for lunch threatening to come back up. She glanced up at the rest of the team, her vision blurred by a film of tears. "I meant to leave him a note." she said straining to keep the emotion from her voice. "But I forgot." There was a curious roaring sound in her ears, though the room was so silent she could hear a pin drop.

"How...how did it happen?"

She could see the silent conversation between the others. Steve gave an almost imperceptible nod. Pepper turned to her, a strange look on her face. "Nat...he was killed while on a mission. Doing his job. He miscalculated the amount of security on a job"

"O..oh." Her thoughts whirled. Killed on the job through a miscalculation? Impossible. Clint was the best of the best. He was so careful it annoyed her. He would never take on a job where there was a possibility of…casualties. Something wasn't right.

Bruce stood up suddenly, his eyes full of pity. "Come on Natasha, you must be tired. We'll get everything sorted out in the morning okay? You need to get to bed."

"No, I need-"

"Bed." he said firmly, pointing her to the elevator that would bring her to her old quarters. She obeyed without question, feeling their eyes on her. However, once the elevator doors closed she kicked open the top hatch and shimmied up the wire to hang just outside the doors she had passed through moments before. The others were hiding something before, something about…She swallowed hard, forcing his face from her mind. Something was off about their story. They had excused her way too quickly, were way too eager to have her gone.

Leaning closer, she strained to hear.

"…tell her the truth?"

"No," Steve's voice drifted out to where she clung. "What's done is done. Telling her won't change anything."

"But to lie to her?" That was Bruce's voice, Natasha mused. It seemed he was in favor of telling her whatever the others wanted to hide. "She deserves to know the truth."

There was a harsh laugh, a clinking of a glass set down on a table. "What, she deserves to know what she did to him?" Natasha could hear Pepper murmuring, trying to sooth Tony but he kept talking in the same harsh, blunt tone. "Tell her how her little plan to get revenge made him blow his own brains out? No no I'm fine Pepper!" Natasha had to clutch the wall, her mouth suddenly dry. Clint had shot himself? No! He was lying! Clint was too good….he wouldn't have just…

Tony seemed to have shrugged off Pepper because he was louder, voice slurred slightly. "Sure, fine, let's tell her. Let's have her own up to what she did to us."

"Tony." Pepper's voice was sharp.

"Let her know how she effectively killed her own partner. Offed him, just like that." Tony was clearly drunk now, his stumbling footsteps echoing up to where Natasha clung in horrified shock to the wires. "Let everyone know! How about that Banner?"

"We don't know the exact circumstances of Barton's decision, Stark." Steve's voice sounded closer, more clipped. "Only he knew what was going through his head that night."

"He loved her! He had her damn picture in his hand!"

Steve's voice swelled, deepened into the authoritative tone of Captain America. "And there's reason to believe that the truth could have a similar effect on Natasha. The decision is made. We stay quiet."

Natasha only caught only a small bit of his declaration. She was already gone.

* * *

Natasha was a master at concealment. Compared to her, Clint was an open book and that's how she managed to keep her own alcoholism under wraps for close to two years since that night. The others never even suspected anything, how she subsisted on almost nothing except whiskey and energy bars. The alcohol was good, took the edge off the searing pain she felt whenever she pictured _him,_ but never quite erased it completely. It was always there, a dull ache.

She went on missions, interacted with the others and to anyone on the outside she was no different from the Natasha whose partner hadn't committed suicide. Careful to the extreme, the others thought her fine. She managed to hack into SHIELD's database and collect information on how _he_ died, how he was holding her photo, a note. _Why Clint why? _She'd had nothing but vodka and whiskey for a straight week after that.

She was starting to crack, she could feel it. Visiting the small meadow where SHIELD buried Clint helped some, though she had needed a bottle of Jack in her hand the entire time. Alone in her room, she simply sat and stared at the wall, occasionally taking a swig from her bottle. _Forget, forget, forget. _ She never could though. She always replayed the same scenes over and over, the last time she saw him laugh, the moment she forgot to leave the note.

The night he confessed how much he loved her.

* * *

That'd only been two weeks before she left for Russia, and the memory was crystal clear. They'd been laughing over something, relaxing in their makeshift foxhole while out on a job.

"You ever think about retiring, Nat?"

She had glanced at him, smirking in dismissal. "What, like some senior citizens? People like us don't retire Clint."

"But have you ever thought what it would like?" He had persisted. "If you could be...normal for once. You could get married, have kids."

"Kids?" She had turned to him with a skeptical look on her face. "You're getting soft there Clint." for a moment, they had sat there in silence. "Why? Have you thought about it?"

"Yeah."

The casualness of his tone had surprised her. "Oh?"

"Yea. Of course that plan hinges on if you retire too. Can't have my wife running all over the globe without me."

The implications of that statement had hit her like a ton of bricks, and she had turned to face him, shock evident on her face. "Wha…?"

He lowered his bow, eyes fixed on her face. "If I asked you, would you marry me?"

"What?" She had spluttered, trying to make sense. Where had all this come from?

"Because I would if you asked me," he said easily, conversationally. "I think you'd be a beautiful bride."

"…Why?" she had gasped. It seemed that she was only capable of one word questions, she was so shocked.

Clint had leaned forward then and grabbed one of her hands with one of his, his hand warm and comforting against her own. "Because I love you Nat. Always have." A slight color had then risen in his cheeks, the only sign of self-consciousness he had shown during the entire conversation. "I know you're probably surprised…Shit." he had muttered to himself.

She had studied him while he berated himself. True, she had been taken off guard by his declaration, but she felt surprisingly _happy _as well. She considered what she had with Clint. They were partners certainly….but more? Well, she felt more at ease with him than anyone else, safer and more secure. He was funny, could always make her laugh, held her more than once after a mission gone wrong. She considered his eyes, kinder than any others and his every expression. They talked together, laughed together, fought together…

He had continued talking. "All I'm saying is that I love you Na-"

Clint had stopped talking because she had leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. She leaned back, eyes searching his. They stared at each other for several minutes, the silence deepening. Her breathing became more ragged under the intensity of his gaze. "We should get back to surveillance." she whispered.

He had nodded, the silence broken, but one corner of his mouth curled up in a half smile. Though they returned their attention to the building they were staking out, his hand once more held hers tightly in the cover of darkness.

She had smiled.

* * *

"No…"

Natasha finally understood what Clint must have felt like that night two years ago. She retched, vomit splattering onto the floor, the bottle of whiskey still clutched fast in her hand. Blearily, she gave it a shake and frowned when there was no comforting sloshing sound. She tried to stand, to reach her dresser where she had more of bottles of the stuff, but the floor tilted crazily and she only managed to make it to her bed before she collapsed unsteadily onto her mattress. Natasha fingered the pistol strapped to her leg. There was a way to make to pain stop, to finally forget him. Raising it shakily to her head, she paused, her mind vainly trying to make sense. Was this what she wanted? Was Clint there watching her, trying to stop her? If he was there, then if she did do this then they could be together. She wouldn't have to forget. She fished out the picture of him she always carried with her, studying his eyes, the way his skin wrinkled at the corners of his mouth when he smiled.

She pulled the trigger.


End file.
